


A Christmas Story

by mandysimo13



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Christmas Story, Humor, M/M, gift story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21907351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandysimo13/pseuds/mandysimo13
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley attend a Christmas Party at Jasmine Cottage and tell The Them a Christmas Story.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 41
Collections: Good Omens Holiday Swap 2019





	A Christmas Story

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nantook (Yuugisgirl)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuugisgirl/gifts).



> Merry Christmas to my recipient, Nantook! Hope you enjoy this piece!

Aziraphale and Crowley found themselves sitting on a charming little love seat in a charming little cottage owned by a charming witch and her charming boyfriend in the most idyllic village in all of Britain. The snow fell gently in big, puffy flakes -just as it should- to form perfect mounds of snow that, come morning, would make for excellent building material. Icicles glinted multicolor against the fairy lights tacked to the siding and windows of Jasmine cottage, giving it a festive cheeriness that was mirrored in the tinsel on a lighted and decorated tree in the parlor. The fire in the hearth wafted out a comforting heat, warming the snake that lived within Crowley quite nicely and made Aziraphale’s face glow golden in a way that made Crowley’s heart skip an unneeded beat. 

It was all enough to make even the grinchiest Grinch heart grow three sizes in one day. 

Together, angel and demon sat and watched the party bustle around them. They sipped on mulled wine and Aziraphale sampled adorably decorated sugar and gingerbread cookies while adults chatted and children played. The two shared a look, knowing they were both thinking quite fondly of Christmases from centuries past. 

“You missed most of the Dickensian era, he would be quite charmed to see what we’ve made of the holiday,” Aziraphale said before biting into a gingerbread duck. 

“Made the first one, though, didn’t I?” 

“You wot?!” 

Both beings startled, unaware that they were being spied on by four pairs of eyes. Their mutually gaped mouths searched for words and Aziraphale fidgeted in his seat, trying to find a way out of what was sure to be an uncomfortable conversation. 

Aziraphale cleared his throat and said, “we might have been present for the first “Christmas”.” 

“Really?” Brian asked, smile bright and inquisitive. “What was it like?” 

“Were there actually three wise men? Was there really a stable? Was Jesus real,” Wensleydale asked rapidly. 

“Was Mary really a virgin,” Pepper asked skeptically.

Adam stood silent, small smile on his lips, and waited for his friends questions to be answered. 

Crowley, far from silent, snickered at the children’s questions and gestured for Aziraphale to answer. “Go ahead, angel. No one better than a divine being to tell the story of how it all really went.” Then he leaned over to Pepper and stage-whispered, “Mary was a virgin when that snot-nosed Gabriel visited her. But come on, married lady. Of course she didn’t stay a virgin.” He grinned and said, “don’t believe the propaganda they sell ya, kids.” 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale scolded and rolled his eyes. He sighed and took a bracing sip of his cider, snaped his fingers to refill his glass, and took a deep breath before speaking. “The first Christmas was...an interesting mission. There really were three wise men, a stable, and Jesus did in fact exist. Though, at the time, we called him Yeshua.” He took another sip of his wine and confirmed, “and Mary was a virgin. I can’t speak for any of her subsequent pregnancies but we do know the first one was divine.” 

Pepper’s eyes squinted in confusion, “but how-”

Aziraphale cut her off, “not my department, I’m afraid. Anything else?” 

“Oh, come on Aziraphale! Don’t sell it short! It’s an excellent story.” 

Aziraphale glared at him. “Don’t push your luck, my dear,” he said warningly. 

Crowley softened and put a hand out to touch Aziraphale’s arm. “Don’t be embarrassed-”

“I am  _ not _ embarrassed, Crowley, I-”

“You were instrumental in making the story what it is!” 

The children gasped in awe. They looked on expectantly, asking for Aziraphale to please tell them the story of what the first Christmas was like. Their pleading eyes and Crowley’s encouraging smile wore him down. He would tell them the story, even if he was still rather embarrassed. 

“Well. You see. I was given a very important task in preparation for the birth of God’s son. Many angels were. Gabriel was told Mary the news. Michael hung the star. Some other angels directed the wise men in the right direction. Some were placed to ensure a census was called to make the travel to Bethlehem necessary.” 

“What was your task,” Adam asked. 

Aziraphale hesitated, looking down at his fingers. “I...was to prepare a place for Mary to give birth.” He smiled shyly. “I planned very well, you see. I was in Bethlehem months in advance to prepare; selecting the best inn, procuring good food, water and wine for the couple, interviewing midwives so that one could be on hand at the event. I even booked the entire inn ahead of their arrival so that the little family could have the whole place to themselves and be at peace. Just as should have been proper for the son of God.” 

The Them shared a confused look. Wensleydale then said, “actually, Mary gave birth in a stable. Not an inn. The rooms were all full.” 

Crowley snickered and Aziraphale groaned, a hand coming up to rub a sudden headache from between his eyes. Crowley put an arm around his angel and consoled him. “It’s not so bad, angel. It was all part of The Great Ineffable Plan, right?” 

“Was it, though?!” 

“Would help you sleep at night if you tell yourself long enough,” Crowley reasoned. 

Adam broke through their bickering. “What happened, then? If you had planned so perfectly, what happened? How did Mary and Joseph end up in a stable?” 

“You see, children,” Crowley said, saving Aziraphale from having to explain. “Aziraphale was very excited about his job. He planned and he planned and he planned. He planned so well and thought about everything except for one, tiny thing.” He paused for dramatic effect. “He forgot to tell the inn keeper that he was expecting guests and that one of the rooms he had rented was for Mary and Joseph.” 

A brief moment of silence was promptly followed by jovial childish laughter. 

Crowley hugged Aziraphale closer as the angel drank deeply from his glass. “Utterly humiliating,” Aziraphale said, admiring his empty glass. 

Crowley filled it for him and said, “but your presence had made that inn-keeper more charitable. Remember how he had been when you first arrived at his establishment? He was cold, conniving, unfeeling, and greedy. He would have sold his mother for a single sheckle if given the opportunity. But then months spent with you in residence and his heart started to open to good deeds and he felt bad for having to turn down a tremendously pregnant woman and her scared, frazzled husband. So what did he do?” 

Aziraphale replied, “he offered the stable attached to his inn. A bed of hay and the stink of manure.” 

“A humble beginning,” Crowley said. 

“Where were you in this,” Pepper asked. 

Crowley turned to her and asked, “beg pardon?” 

“You said you were there, too. So, where were you?” 

Crowley smiled and said, “originally kicking up trouble in a pub a few blocks away. But demons and angels have sort of a...spidey-sense. We know when big things are happening. Aziraphale felt it, too. It’s how he knew to keep an eye out for Mary. I got the message from my bosses at the time to look out for God’s son, to report back when he had been delivered.” He let Aziraphale go and took a sip of his own cider, miraculously still warm. “So I made my way to Aziraphale’s. I thought ‘if anyone knows where things were going down, it’d be him’.” 

“Didn’t you tell him before? That you were the one who was supposed to give them a place to stay?” Brian asked Aziraphale. 

“Certainly not!” He sounded affronted and shocked that Brian should even have asked the question. 

“Why not?” Brian implored. “I thought you were friends!”

Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged a weighted look and Crowley said, “it's ...complicated. We weren’t always friends. Aziraphale and I,” he paused, searching for the right phrasing. “We tried to keep things professional. For us, that meant hiding our purposes and missions from each other unless absolutely necessary.” 

“How did you end up at the birth, then? Wouldn’t Aziraphale have kicked you out?” Adam asked. 

“You children certainly ask a lot of questions,” Aziraphale said tetchily. 

“As all children, do. Remember Warlock?” 

“Oh heavens, Warlock and his questions,” Aziraphale groaned. “That boy was a menace.” 

“Boy after my own heart,” Crowley said with pride. 

“Get on with it,” Pepper said excitedly. 

“Please,” Adam asked nicely. 

“So, once I rooted out where Aziraphale was holed up in, I slithered into my original form and made for the stable.” 

“Slithered,” Wensleydale gulped. 

Crowley stuck his forked tongue out at The Them. “Yup, slithered.” He smiled and said, “got me a front row seat up in the rafters.” He grimaced and said, “human births are so messy. Dunno how Eve’s descendants do it at all.” 

Aziraphale continued, “and by the time I realized my error, Yeshua had already arrived. I felt truly awful. Really, I did. A manger is no proper place for a baby to sleep, after all.” 

Crowley patted him on the back and handed him another cookie. “You made it up to them, though.” 

“What did you do?!” Brian asked. 

Aziraphale opened his mouth to answer but Crowley beat him to it. “He invited the poor, tired parents into his own rooms, claiming that his own relatives had gone to stay elsewhere for the census and the rooms were free for them to use. He would even foot the bill.” 

“Gabriel was incredibly angry,” Aziraphale recounted. “I got a stern talking to, a letter in my file, a decrease in my miracle allotment for a decade.” He groaned and rolled his eyes. “Utter nightmare!” 

“But,” Adam started, puzzled, “if everything is God’s plan and the plan is “ineffable”, wouldn’t that mean that your forgetting was part of the plan?” 

Aziraphale frowned and shrugged. “We’ll never know, really. I mean, would  _ you _ want your child to be born amongst donkey excrement?” At the group’s silence he added, “I didn’t think so.” 

Crowley, voice ever cheerful, “but as you said so yourself, look what the humans have turned the story into! A time of immense stress and family strife!” 

Aziraphale glared at him. But then, slowly, his face melted into a smile. “I think you mean a time of being with ones you love.” 

“A time to hoard things and spend outrageous amounts of money!” 

Aziraphale countered with, “a time to give gifts and to do good deeds.” 

Crowley rolled his eyes. “A time to create mischief and serve squabbles at the dinner table.” 

“A time for welcoming a new year and new opportunities.” 

Crowley grinned. “New beginnings.” 

“New beginnings,” Aziraphale agreed. 

Their eyes stayed locked on one another, unable to turn away. That is, until disgusted groans of children calling them “gross” caused them to laugh and break their eye contact. As the children lost interest in them and shuffled off, they collected themselves and scooted impossibly closer to each other. Aziraphale dropped his head onto Crowley’s shoulder, sighing deeply. 

“That was dirty of you, having me tell that story,” he chided without heat. 

Crowley kissed the top of his head. “Can’t expect me to be good all the time, angel.” A small pause and he added, “it did make an excellent story, though.” 

“Wicked thing,” Aziraphale said, slapping Crowley’s thigh lightly. 

“ _ Your _ wicked thing,” Crowley reminded him. 

Aziraphale tilted his head up and asked, “we’re truly disgusting aren’t we?”

“Absolutely,” Crowley agreed. “Completely disgusting.” He placed a soft, lingering kiss against Aziraphale’s lips. He let his glasses slide down the bridge of his nose so his eyes could gleam at him. “Want to go home and be even more disgusting?” The accompanying eyebrow waggle sent Aziraphale into a fit of giggles. 

“Ha! Crowley, you menace.” He kissed him once and raised his hand and after a crisp snap sound the love seat was vacated, its occupants transported across the miles to their shared home. A charming bookshop, charmingly decorated for the season that infuriatingly was almost never open. Christmas cheer permeated every nook and cranny, spreading out from those four walls and into the homes and businesses surrounding the bookshop. All was as it was supposed to be, full of love, light, and happiness. A very happy Christmas was had by all. 

And a happy New Year, as well. 


End file.
